


Finding the Whole

by hostilecrayon



Series: Becoming Whole [1]
Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Growing Up, Introspection, Non After Years Compliant, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostilecrayon/pseuds/hostilecrayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edge thinks he's got it all figured out until a certain summoner shows him just how lacking he really is. Edge/Rydia</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding the Whole

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Finding the Whole  
> Author: hostilecrayon  
> Pairing: Edge/Rydia  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: Angst, violence, littlest bit of sap, a tiny bit of language, sexual themes, promiscuous Edge (which was the working title, actually), briefest of mentions of Edge bedding both unnamed men and women (no details either way)  
> Disclaimer: FFIV is owned by Square Enix, or Squenix, as I like to call them.  
> Notes: I don’t even know. This was supposed to be a short silly fic with just a touch of angst that was just for fun. Somehow, it turned into this nearly 7,000 word monster you see before you, and it is ripe with angst and pain and introspection and Edge learning how to grow up through trial and error. I bled this out in two days, and I have no idea where it came from. So… uh… enjoy?

**Finding the Whole**

 

     Edge has slept with many women in his short life. Many, many women – something he has always boasted of with no small amount pride. He was a _ladies man_. He’d been with a small handful of men, too – Edge isn’t picky – so he considers himself a man of vast experience.

 

     That is, until he encounters one green-haired Summoner who will barely give him the time of day.

 

     It’s not as if he had never been rejected – as sexy and alluring as he knows he is, finding sexual partners is always hit or miss. It is the first time he’s ever been forced to be around someone who has rejected him, though, and her continual dismissal somehow gets under his skin.

 

     Edge knows who he is, or he thinks he does, and someone to be ignored is definitely not a category he falls in.

 

     When everything was happening and they were lost in the thick of the fighting, there was little time to think much about such things. The few moments of peace were spent contemplating the trials ahead, and remembering those they had already conquered. When faced with the sharp memories of the recently dead, and fearing for those who may die in the very near future, it was easy enough to let everything else go with a shrug of the shoulders.

 

     That is not so much the case after everything is said and done. It takes Cecil and Rosa’s wedding to show him that much.

 

     Rydia greets the happy couple with a wealth of emotion – Edge can see her quite clearly, decked out in graceful robes of green and gold that are somehow both formal and wild at the same time, as he is standing right next to them. When her eyes turn his way, however-

 

     “Edge,” she says, coming to stand before him, and he thinks there may be some of Shiva’s Diamond Dust caught in her throat with as icy as it comes out.

 

     He doesn’t know what to say to that, and so he says nothing; a raised eyebrow his only expression.

 

     “The King of Elban does not remember how to greet a lady, I see.” Her face is a wall of ice, and he’s not sure what exactly he’s done to earn her ire, or distain, or whatever it is that has built such a high wall between them, but at the moment, he doesn’t care.

 

     “Oh, I am well-versed in the ladies,” he says, his voice low and smooth. When her eyes narrow, he adds, “You let me know when you see one and I’ll be sure to make good use of my skills.”

 

     Some of the ice melts, replaced by a fire so fierce, he is pretty sure she would slap him with it if they were anywhere else. But they’re not, and so she turns on her heel and marches to her place in the ceremony, her earlier grace lost to the anger seething just under the surface. Edge feels just a little proud of himself for being able to provoke such passion from her. It isn’t the ideal form of that emotion, but at least he isn’t being ignored.

 

     When the reception begins, Edge is being ignored. Quite thoroughly, even, as he’d expected at least some heated glances, or even some icy stares. But no, Rydia has regained her composure; that wild grace returning to her as she flits around the room. She is laughing, and dancing, and talking with what seems to be everyone in the entire damn castle. Everyone but him.

 

     In fact, it is as if she has completely forgotten he was even there.

 

     Edge is pretty sure he hates her for making him feel this way. It’s as if she has stripped him down and found him to be unworthy. Him, unworthy. She must be out of her mind.

 

     That night, he finds a nameless flirty blonde in the crowd who is powerless against his Ninja charm, takes her back to his guest suite and fucks her into oblivion.

 

     He does not feel better.

 

     Rydia is gone by the time he makes his royal way down to find some breakfast, and he wishes people would stop addressing him as King, because, damn it, he is even thinking in terms of being royalty, and he hates that. He is Edge, the great sexy Ninja that saved the world. He’s less excited about being known as King Edward Geraldine, leader of the restoration of Elban and diplomatic negotiator; a role he is not at all ready to take on so soon after the death of his parents.

 

     He is still in mourning for them. Or, perhaps more accurately, in mourning for himself. The crafty Prince that made his parents and most of the country roll their eyes at him doesn’t exist anymore, and his father’s shoes are much too big for him to fill.

 

     Whatever, he knows who he is. He tells himself so every day. He is a Ninja; there is nothing he cannot do. He’ll just have to improvise.

 

     He does. It’s complex, and messy, and there is a definite learning curve, but being a king isn’t the end of the world or anything, and in time, he learns what is expected of him.

 

     Unfortunately, what is expected of him is boring.

 

     He is chastised regularly for his multiple bed partners, but he doesn’t care. Or he does, but only because his bed partners have somehow all taken on Rydia’s form when darkness washes over them. He ignores this as fiercely as she ignores him.

 

     She has not once come to Eblan.

 

     It is a diplomatic mission that brings them together again. Eblan is still in the throes of being rebuilt, and it is Edge’s duty to strengthen its ties with the other nations. Travelling to Baron is simply a formality, but a necessary one.

 

     She is there when he arrives, and shock registers in the corner of his mind when he realizes he is perhaps just the tiniest bit hurt that she has graced the Baron castle with her presence, and not Eblan’s. She is rebuilding Mist, and Baron is closest, so it’s not as if she’d gone out of her way, but still, he can’t shake the feeling that he has been slighted, somehow.

 

     His welcome from Cecil and Rosa is as warm as it could possibly be, and he feels perfectly at ease with them, as if they had never parted ways at all. Rydia, however, does not even bother to acknowledge him. Not by name or by title does she greet him – it is as if he is not there at all.

 

     He wants to confront her, but there is no time for that, and he settles in to the negotiations that take the form of a pleasant conversation between old friends. There is no fighting for ground here, but facts and figures still must be drawn up, and paperwork must still be signed and officialized, and so it is still late when they are finally through.

 

     This time, Rydia has not escaped him, rude as it is to leave Cecil and Rosa without a goodbye, and he finds her wandering about the castle in only a light green robe and little else. He watches her from the shadows for a while, unsure of what to say or if he should in fact say anything. Her bare feet make no sound on the stone floors, and with her wild green hair framing her face, Edge thinks that she looks like a Goddess of nature; ever in control of her domain, and as unforgiving as Titan.

 

     Something changes in her gait, and for a brief moment she is like a feline who is pinpointing its prey, her head cocked slightly to the side and her eyes searching. He knows that she cannot see him, but her gaze turns towards him anyway, and she knows he is there. “Show your face. Only a coward hides in the shadows.”

 

     It’s like a physical blow – a Ninja’s place is in the shadows, and a Ninja is anything but a coward. It is a rejection of everything that he is, down in his core, and he has half a mind to simply disappear and never speak to this wild beast again. But he doesn’t. There is something he has to know, and he steps out into the pale moonlight.

 

     “What you call cowardice is a skill that has been passed down through the generations from the very founders of Eblan. I did not know you thought so lowly of my country.” It has been a long time since he had used such a frightening tone, but somehow he couldn’t help but want to cut her down as she had done to him, and there is a brief flash of something before her face hardens again.

 

     “I am certain the founders would think highly of you spying on a woman with that skill,” she says, and it is like a douse of acid to the face.

 

     “Just who do you think you are?” he tries, but she is having none of it.

 

     “No, who do you think _you_ are? The mighty Ninja King of Eblan? Give me a break. No matter what mask you wear, you are nothing but an arrogant child in a man’s body. You do not know how to treat a woman-“ Edge opens his mouth to object, but she does not let him, “Oh, you know how to bed a woman, but you do not know how to _treat_ one. You have made that much quite clear in the short amount of time we have spent together. I want no part of your affections, for they are insincere and will only last until the sun comes up.”

 

     He can feel the magic within him spring to life; Blitz lightning lingering just under his skin, darkening his eyes in anguish. His fingertips spark, blindingly white in the near darkness. His hair stands on end from the static.

 

     She just stands there staring at him, clearly unafraid.

 

     He wants to lash out at her; to strike her down where she stands, spewing such poisons at him, but there is something stopping him, some emotion that he does not dare name shaming him into submission. Somewhere deep down, he knows that she is right.

 

     That doesn’t stop him from finding some empty-headed brunette at the bar to help him forget that.

 

     He is exhausted, and his bed smells of sex, but lying there with a naked woman he does not know sprawled across him, he finds he cannot sleep. He unceremoniously pushes the woman off him and gets up. She does not wake, as she is quite drunk, but then, he’d drank his fair share, as well, and he can feel it weighing him down with each step he takes.

 

     He slips out of the room and makes his way outside, leaning on the railing and staring up at a moon he has actually set foot on. Edge knows who he is, and yet he doesn’t, as Rydia’s words float into his mind, painting him in the worst possible light. He wants to ask her why she hates him so much, but that’s a stupid question, because she had already told him.

 

     He thinks of his parents, and of faceless men and women he has shared his bed with but does not know their names, and of Rydia, the graceful Summoner with the sharp tongue that pierces straight through his heart. He is still there as the sun comes up, and even still when someone finally comes to find him when he doesn’t make an appearance at breakfast. He ignores the messenger, and eventually, he goes away.

 

     Something had happened to make Rydia hate him. He is sure of it. His mind wanders through their exchanges, and he is startled to find so many that make him sound as if he finds her to be inferior. He had called her a child of all things before their trip to the moon. Rydia was definitely no child. She wasn’t then, and she most certainly is not now.

 

     She is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

 

     He sighs, stretching out the knots from standing still for so long, and finally makes his way inside, his posture one of defeat. He hopes the nameless woman is gone from his room, but he doesn’t bother to check. He has had enough anonymous sex in his life to last him until the end of time. He has no desire to see the last of his conquests in his borrowed bedchambers.

 

     He should do something. He’s not quite sure what, but he feels like he’s had some sort of epiphany, even if he doesn’t know what that means yet.

 

     Naturally, he goes to find Rydia. Edge prides himself on being a straightforward kind of guy, even if he _does_ hide in the shadows, and these hostilities between them just won’t do. He tells her as much.

 

     “Pretty words from a pretty face, with nothing to back them up,” she says.

 

     Wait, did she just say he has a pretty face? “So you think I’m handsome,” he retorts, and immediately wants to bite his tongue off for his inability to resist.

 

     Her face is still as stone. “That’s not what I said.”

 

     “Of course not,” he says, not quite knowing how to keep his mouth in check. “Let’s put this all behind us. I’ll help you rebuild Mist, if you like.” He says it like he couldn’t care less, but he does care, more than he can even comprehend, and when she throws her hands up in frustration, he thinks that maybe he’s going about this the wrong way.

 

     “I don’t need your wanton assistance. Go back to your castle and your warm bodies and leave me be.” She turns to stalk from the room.

 

     “Rydia.” She stops, but does not look at him. “I can change,” he says, and he thinks it’s true, because he suddenly feels completely unsatisfied and inadequate in every way.

 

     “Prove it.” It was soft, the words disappearing almost instantly in the air around her as if they were never spoken at all. He blinks and she’s gone, and he’s not sure if she used magic or if his brain is just unable to keep up.

 

     It is the first civil-sounding thing she has said to him since before they defeated Zemus. He has no idea what exactly it means to prove himself, but he finds he wants to – needs to – prove himself to this woman. It’s an idea he would have scoffed at only days earlier, and he wonders if that’s part of the problem.

 

     He spends some time concentrating on his country, and in his down time, he studies, perfecting his skills and adding new ones to his collection. He has not brought a woman – or a man, for that matter – back to his bed chamber in months. He misses it at the same time as he does not miss it at all, and on the nights that he can’t work himself into a full exhaustion with his training, he uses his hand to keep the impulses at bay. It’s not as satisfying, but it feels good all the same, and he is secure in the knowledge that this somehow means he has changed. That still doesn’t mean much to him, but he feels something important lurking just beyond his grasp, and he is determined to capture it, the way one attempts to catch a fly buzzing around their head.

 

     He has neither seen nor heard from Rydia. He thinks this is a good thing – someone once told him that change doesn’t happen overnight, and when he sees her next, he wants to truly be a changed man, which he thinks will happen just as soon as he figures out exactly what that means.

 

     She sends back all of the aid from Eblan, so Edge has taken to sending money to Cecil so that he can pass it off as from Baron. He wants to help her, but right now, this is all he can think of to do.

 

     A year goes by in this fashion, and finally, Eblan is a real country again, no longer in shambles. He is tired, but surprisingly satisfied with everything he has accomplished. It is not so much of a strain to see himself as King now, though he still longs to be free of it, if only for a little while.

 

     He sees her again at Eblan’s first annual ball since Edge took the throne. It doubles as a celebration for the restoration of Eblan, and he has invited royalty from around the world, most of which happen to be people he’d fought alongside to save the world. Yang and his wife are there, the other royal Edward – not that Edge ever uses his given name if he can help it – and Cecil and Rosa as well. Kain even makes an appearance, and he is glad to see that Kain has made his amends with the King and Queen of Baron, even if Edge still isn’t moved to be more than polite to the man.

 

     He did not expect her to come, and when she does not arrive with Cecil, he is convinced that she will not. And yet she arrives, late and alone, nervously holding what he can tell is the invitation he had taken great care to have delivered to her. He cannot remember ever seeing her nervous before, and he’s not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but he’s more than willing to see how it plays out.

 

     He may not have expected her to come, but he _was_ waiting for her, so he is able to greet her even before the doorman takes her invitation. She is, if possible, even more elegantly dressed than she was at Cecil’s wedding, her green gown flowing around her in a way that makes him think of Sylph’s magic; an amber necklace around her neck that looks like it was made just for her. She is not royalty, and yet she is the most majestic thing in the entire castle.

 

     The doorman looks startled to see his King greeting a guest at the door, but he steps back discreetly to give them a semblance of privacy. Rydia looks flustered to find herself already faced with him, and before she can morph that initial reaction into something else, he does something he has never done before.

 

     He drops to one knee, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. “Welcome to Eblan, Lady Summoner, Rydia of Mist.”

 

     Her face does an interesting dance between shock and disbelief before settling into something almost amused. “It is my pleasure, Edward Geraldine, Ninja King of Eblan.”

 

     He can’t help but grin. “If it pleases the Lady Summoner, your Ladyship may address me as Edge.”

 

     “It might, your Majesty. You will just have to wait and see.” Her eyes are twinkling, but her body language tells him she is not fully convinced. He does not blame her, but he is also not going to let her out of his sights just yet, and so he loops his arm with hers and leads her across the floor, slowly making their way to Cecil, stopping to introduce her to those who catch his eye.

 

     As it turns out, those who catch his eye is everyone in the castle. Edge is many things, and a bachelor is one of them, so seeing their King arm in arm with such an enchanting lady is one thing they can’t possibly miss.

 

     It doesn’t help that he has never publically escorted a lady at an official event before.

 

     She doesn’t speak directly to him, but she doesn’t pull away, either, so he lets himself enjoy the feel of her on his arm. He didn’t know it could feel this way. This isn’t the fawning of a person in a tavern who has had one too many to drink, or the excitement of an admirer just looking to say they have had the intimate company of a king. This is an exercise in grace and formality, and is somehow more intimate than anything that has come before.

 

     Rydia wants nothing from him, and yet graces him with her company anyways. It is something entirely new to him, and it leaves his stomach in knots.

 

     He reluctantly surrenders the exotic beauty on his arm to the care of Cecil, and she is surprised yet again when he takes his leave with a sweeping bow to tend to his other guests.

 

     It is nearly midnight when she approaches him, a sly smile on her face. “Would his Majesty care for a dance?”

 

     “Certainly, Mi’lady.” She curtsies and he bows before gently taking her hand to lead her across the ballroom floor. It is late, and the crowd has thinned, but he can feel the eyes of those who remain watching them as they float across the dance floor in time with the soft music. They are certainly a sight to see; Rydia’s gown swishing around her as she turns out and then back again, their bodies coming together in perfect rhythm.

 

     As they come close again, she asks, “Who are you?” her face alight with wonder. He’s not sure she meant to say it out loud, but he answers her anyway.

 

     “Why, the mighty Ninja King of Eblan, of course. Who were you expecting?” The laugh bursts out of her, rich and full and bright, and he finally lets himself grin, because for once, he’s said the right thing.

 

     “It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” she replies, and there is something just under the surface of her words that implies so much more. He realizes with a start that he really has changed. Nothing demonstrates this more than the fact that when the music stops, he lets her go with nothing more than well wishes and a kiss on the hand.

 

     He still wants her, but he does not want her only for the duration of the night, or for the time of her brief visit. He wants her for far longer. How much longer, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that he cannot imagine another on his arm; he cannot imagine anything ever feeling quite as right as it does when she is near.

 

     He is a master of the bedroom, but one thing Edge is not is versed in the ways of love. He thinks he might finally be learning a thing or two about it.

 

     She leaves in the morning with Cecil and Rosa. They do not share any more direct conversation outside of the normal pleasantries, but her cryptic gaze lingers on him as she leaves, and he wonders when he might see her again.

 

     It dominates his thoughts, and distracts him from his duties, something his Seneschal is completely exasperated by. Not that he knows the reason for his lack of focus, but he’s keen enough to know that somehow, it involves a woman.

 

     The months drag on endlessly, and he feels like he is wasting precious time. For what, exactly, he doesn’t know, but he can’t help but think he should be doing something other than sitting on his throne, waiting for Rydia to return. She had come to him last; it is only right that he goes to her this time, isn’t it?

 

     He is suddenly a whirlwind of activity, preparing to take leave for Mist – something his Seneschal is none-too-happy about, but grudgingly gives in under the pressure of Edge’s insistence that it is pertinent to have good relations with the mystical town hidden away in the mountains. Summoners make powerful allies, and that is an argument not even the Seneschal can refute.

 

     Before he leaves, he makes the trip through the Eblan cave to visit his parents’ graves for luck. He’s not exactly sure what kind of luck he is looking for, but he talks at length to the tombstones about Rydia and about Eblan, and he asks for them to bless them both. He is only a little disappointed that there is no response, even as he knows that the dead are no longer capable of doing much of anything.

 

     It strikes him as odd that this is his first visit to these caves since the graves were placed there, but he finds it fitting, as well. The person he was before wasn’t worthy of the peace it provides. That person would have brought nothing but arrogance and a childish anger that has no place here. Edge thinks he might finally actually know who he is, and he’s not sure that he is worthy now, but he is striving to be for the first time in his life.

 

     The journey to Mist is not exactly a difficult one, not for someone with his experience or skill set, but it is long and tiring, especially since he refused the company of any of the royal guard. He wonders if this is why Rydia has not visited him, and he finds himself hoping that is the case instead of some aversion to seeing him again. Mist is much too small to have their own airship, and though Edge would send one if she were to request it, she would still have to send a messenger on the trail he is on, and if she had to wait that long, she may as well come herself.

 

     His trip is something Mist knows nothing about, so there is no welcoming committee to greet him. Instead, there is a summon guarding the exit of the cave that leads to Mist. He instantly recognizes it as the Mist Dragon; the summon inherited by Rydia from her mother.

 

     “Who dares travel the road to Mist without my Caller’s permission?” It is less words and more hiss, echoing around the cavern walls. This is not what he expected.

 

     “I am King Edward Geraldine of Eblan, former travelling companion of your Caller, Lady Summoner Rydia.” A little formality can’t hurt, Edge thinks, and he bows deeply, giving the dragon the respect it deserves.

 

     The Mist Dragon growls. “I know not of you, King Edward Geraldine of Eblan. Leave this place.”

 

     It hurts more than he would have thought that she has not given him permission to come here. “I refuse.”

 

     The dragon doesn’t ask what he is doing here, or why he refuses to leave. To the Mist Dragon, it is simple. Leave or die. “Then you shall perish.”

 

     Edge does not move. “I will not fight you.” He knows what happens if he wins. He would die first, and by the looks of things, he might have to.

 

     “It matters not, human.” That is all the warning he has before the dragon bares its fangs, a vengeful mist spewing forth from its throat and swallowing Edge whole.

 

     Edge does not evade. He does not defend. He hopes he is not making the worst decision of his life – or worse yet, the _last_ decision of his life – but it feels like the right one, even as he can feel himself suffocating in the face of such a tremendous attack.

 

     He is chilled to the bone in a way that natural cold could never make him, and he cannot breathe or see or hear anything that isn’t frozen mist, and he’s starting to worry that he’ll lose consciousness when finally the dragon relents, and he takes in air in big, ragged gulps that make him choke.

 

     “That is a warning. Leave now.”

 

     Edge coughs, pulling down his facemask because it is worthless now, soaked in water and impossible to breathe through, and looks the dragon straight in the eyes. “I will not.”

 

     “You will not get past me unless you kill me. Do you wish for death?”

 

     “I only wish for passage to Mist.”

 

     “You do not have permission to pass.”

 

     “I do not care.”

 

     “Then you will die here.” And the mist begins again.

 

     Edge lets it come as he did before, only this time, as he feels himself start to lose consciousness, something rakes across his chest, ripping him open and spilling his blood into the mist around him, turning everything crimson for a moment that feels like eternity until the mist subsides.

 

     Edge sinks to his knees, his blood already pooling on the cavern rock beneath him. He has been struck before with such blows, but never alone – a Ninja fights from the shadows. He does not have the constitution for a battle of vitality. He has no healing skills and he cannot even move enough to reach his pack for anything that might help him.

 

     He has been weighed and measured by the dragon before him, and he has been found wanting. He coughs, and he tastes blood. He’d chastise himself for the worst decision ever if he didn’t think that was a terrible way to spend his last moments alive.

 

     He’ll definitely have to haunt Cecil for telling him fairytales about trials that require not fighting back to pass. It is clearly bad advice.

 

     If he’s going to die, he may as well try to die with some dignity. He digs some strength up from somewhere inside of him, and struggles to stand. It is painful and awkward, but he eventually manages something that resembles standing, but is more of a hunch, his right arm dead at his side.

 

     “Do you still wish to stand before me?”

 

     He’s not sure he has much of a choice in the matter, but he hears in his mind Rydia’s words, _Only a coward hides in the shadows_ , and Edge is not a coward. Not anymore.

 

     “I do.”

 

     The dragon hesitates. “What good will such a stand do for you? You refuse to fight. You refuse to leave. You must know that you will die. Why do you not yield?”

 

     “Honorable men do not yield. Not even in the face of death.”

 

     The dragon stares at Edge’s bleeding form, contemplating his words. “You believe yourself to be honorable?”

 

     It is Edge’s turn to hesitate, another new quality. “I was not an honorable man not so long ago. Am I honorable now? I can’t say. I would like to be, which is something I’d never wanted before I met your Caller. She has changed me, and if I must die to prove it to her, then so be it.”

 

     “Very well.” The dragon opens his mouth, and Edge stands as straight as he can, looking into the face of his untimely demise and waits. And waits. And waits some more.

 

     “Not that I’m in a hurry to die or anything, but the suspense is killing me.” It is not exactly the most eloquent of things to say, and it’s a far cry from the deep, impassioned words he had said only moments before, but being honorable doesn’t mean that he can’t also be himself, and he feels a grin slide onto his face.

 

     If he’s going to go out anyway, he may as well have fun with it.

 

     The dragon closes his mouth. “Very well, I will let you pass.”

 

     “Thanks,” he quips before what the Mist Dragon is saying sinks in. “Wait, really?”

 

     “You care deeply for my Caller, and you have proven yourself worthy. I will make this one exception.”

 

     “Well, that’s awesome.” His grin turns sheepish. “But, uh, I don’t think I can move…”

 

     “I cannot heal you. Wait, and I will alert my Caller.”

 

     “I’d appreciate it,” is what he says as he is falling towards the ground, the world fading to black. His last coherent thought is _I hope I don’t drown in a puddle of my own blood._

 

     The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Rydia’s worried face staring back at him. Or rather, down at him, as she is hovering over his hospital bed that he assumes is somewhere in Mist.

 

     “We almost lost you there, Edge.” Her voice is trying for light, but it comes across as sad, and Edge puts on a smile for her.

 

     He wants to say, _that’s the first time you’ve called me Edge in over a year_ , but what he actually says is, “It’ll take a lot more than a watery dragon to take me down.” It comes out sounding pathetic and not at all suave, but instead of getting angry, she smiles for him, and he thinks maybe it was okay that he didn’t go with his first thought after all.

 

     “What happened? Why did the Mist Dragon attack you?”

 

     “Apparently, King Edward Geraldine of Eblan doesn’t have permission to pass,” he says, feeling again the sharp flare of rejection.

 

     Whatever he expects her to do, it isn’t blush. Very little fazes Rydia, and as such, he’s seldom seen her blush, especially not so badly that the red spreads into the roots of her hair and down her neck, disappearing beneath her robes. “…That’s the name you gave the dragon?”

 

     For a second, Edge’s heart stops, and he realizes his mistake. Permission was not given for King Edward Geraldine of Eblan. It was given for the Ninja Edge. For a long moment, he thinks he might spontaneously combust right there in the hospital bed. “You mean to tell me,” he says, very quietly, “that I almost died because of a technicality?”

 

     “How was I supposed to know you would give your formal name? You hate that name!” She is beyond flustered, still blushing and upset with just a touch of exasperation, and Edge can’t help himself.

 

     He starts to laugh. Long and hard and deep, until he’s clutching his wounded chest and coughing until he can’t breathe. Rydia tries to calm him, but her eyes are twinkling with laughter of her own, and Edge thinks that aside from the wounds, this moment couldn’t be any more perfect.

 

     Magic is truly a handy thing, and by nightfall the healers have Edge up and walking and almost as good as new. Rydia had refrained from asking his anymore questions until he could breathe properly again, so he asks for her and is pointed towards the Elder’s house, which is apparently what they are calling the ridiculously-too-young-for-such-a-title Rydia.

 

     She greets him warmly enough, inviting him in and leading him to a den of some sort. She offers him food and drink, and he takes it, mainly because he hasn’t eaten since he’d been attacked by a dragon, and such things tend to make one require sustenance.

 

     Once they’re settled though, she cuts right to the chase. “Why did you come here?”

 

     He runs his hand over the back of his head, his hand brushing against the knot of his face mask. He decides that it’s not really the time for masks and pulls it down around his neck before answering. “Do you want to diplomatic answer, or the real one?”

 

     She stares at him.

 

     “Right. Well, I suppose the shortest way to answer your question is to say that I came here for you.”

 

     He can’t read her expression, but her eyes never leave his as she asks for clarification. “What does that mean?”

 

     “You hate me,” he says simply, the words making him grimace a little. “You told me to prove that I could change. Well, here I am. I don’t know what to do, or how to make you see it, but I had to try. That’s all.”

 

     Shock and guilt play across her face, melting into denial. “I never hated you, Edge.”

 

     There it is, his name on her lips again. It does funny things to his stomach.

 

     “I liked you well enough – how could I not? You’re handsome, charming and skilled at what you do. It was your attitude I hated; the way you would treat those you found to be inferior. The way you treated me.”

 

     He forgoes several possible retorts before settling on, “I know. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I know.” He pauses for just a moment before adding, “So you think I’m handsome.”

 

     She rolls her eyes and punches him in the shoulder, and it feels like something huge has shifted and fallen away.

 

     “I was an arrogant child, just like you said, too stupid to realize how foolish I was being.” Edge sighs. “The truth is, I was attracted to you, and I acted like an idiot when you rejected my advances.”

 

     “Was?” is all she says.

 

     Edge holds his breath. He’s not entirely sure this is a good idea, but to hell with it – it’s the reason why he came, isn’t it? “Am. Definitely am.” He runs his fingers through his hair, working out how to say what he really feels when he’s only just figuring it out himself. Eventually, he just blurts out, “I’m in love with you, Rydia. I didn’t know what it meant to be in love, but now that I know, I’m pretty sure I always was.”

 

     There is a stunned silence, and Edge decides that he’s pushed things way too far with no way back, and he stands to leave. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m thinking. I really should just go-“

 

     But now Rydia is standing, too, her soft hand on his arm keeping him rooted to the spot like someone had cast a hold spell on him, and she’s cutting through his words with words of her own. “Edge, wait.”

 

     He finds it hard to look her in the eye right now, so he looks down at his blood-stained boots and waits for the blow. He doesn’t know what she’s waiting for until her hand is cupping his cheek, and for the briefest of moments, their eyes meet, and he sees nothing more than an exasperated fondness there before she leans in to kiss him.

 

     It’s brief but warm; a chaste brushing of the lips and he inhales her rich scent, the smell of wildflowers that have taken over an unkempt field. When she pulls back, she smirks. “Me too, idiot.”

 

     He plays the conversation back in his head until he’s sure there is only one thing she could possibly be referring to, and without his mask on, he’s pretty sure she can see his face light up like it’s the celebration of the coming of spring, which is oddly accurate, as Rydia could never represent any season more perfectly than spring with her beauty and passion and radiant life flowing through her for all who have eyes to see.

 

     He pulls her close and kisses her, properly this time, with tongue and teeth and deliberate prolonging until he hears her moan into his mouth. Edge has kissed more people than he can count, but never before has he seen fireworks the way he sees them now; his knees have never gone weak while fully clothed – not even the first time. They do now, and he pulls back mainly because he fears he might fall over like some inexperienced teenager if he doesn’t.

 

     “Come with me,” he says, and he’s not really sure what he’s asking her, but he just lets his mouth go without a filter because right is not even close to a strong enough word for how this moment feels to him. “Come live with me in Eblan. You would look so beautiful in my mother’s crown…”

 

     She laughs, and it sort of ruins the moment, only it doesn’t, and oh god, did he seriously just indirectly ask her to marry him?

 

     She ruffles his hair fondly. “One step at a time, Mighty Ninja King of Eblan. I’m needed here.”

 

     “Then, after?” he says, breathless for some reason.

 

     “We’ll see how it goes between now and then,” she says, but she’s smiling at him, and he figures it’s a start, right? Then he kisses her again, just because he can.

 

     Edge knows who he is, finally. He is part arrogant child, part hero who fought Zemus on the moon, part ex-playboy, part mighty Ninja King of Eblan, part honorable man, and one-hundred percent Rydia’s.


End file.
